Librino, the project that remained just a dream

If 1954 was marked, on a cinematic level, by a film that is still iconic today: "An American in Rome", in the 1970s there would have been the excuse for a film with a similar title: "A Japanese Man in Catania". He was, in fact, Japanese. Kenzo Tange, an architect and urban planner who half a century ago inspired the Etna city with a project that was, to say the least, ambitious. Librino represents much more than a simple urban planning operation; the goal was to create a "city within a city" capable of housing more than 60 people and offering top-notch architectural quality. In reality, however, it is now considered a true utopia, if not a complete failure. What went wrong, and why is it still necessary to announce redevelopment projects for Librino today? 

More than promising premises

Right to housing and equality: these are the two cornerstones of the General Regulatory Plan of 1964, which refers to Librino as a sort of self-sufficient settlement in which every space would be designed to give rise to a new way of livingNothing new compared to other utopian projects already put down on paper in previous centuries (in Italy and abroad), but with the ambition of solving a problem that gripped Catania in the 1960s: the choice to locate this neighborhood close to the industrial zone also meant, and above all, managing the city's expansion towards the north, which many considered excessively chaotic.

Reading Librino's initial description today perhaps suggests a hint of naivety: the self-sufficient city would have its own university, a hospital, shopping centers, and even a road that would have taken its inhabitants quickly and easily to Catania. 

What exactly did the master plan provide? The area available for the development of the neighborhood amounted to 420 hectares, which until then had been dominated by citrus groves and vineyards. Tange had also given very specific instructions: the neighborhood would have to have 10 residential units, each capable of housing 7 people, complete with schools, offices, health centers, and productive activities for each nucleus. In short, it was a collection of villages, each independent of the other, defined at the perimeter by a double ring of roads. The Japanese architect, however, wanted much more: Librino was to have as its flagship a functional center with a theater, museum, and conference center inside, not to mention bicycle paths, elevated pedestrian crossings, and even an artificial lake for water sports. 

The (bitter) reality of the facts

Librino didn't represent all of this; on the contrary, it developed in a completely different way than the initial dream. The buildings constructed by the cooperatives following Tange's guidelines were replaced by anonymous buildings, public housing and buildings gradually falling into disrepair, not to mention illegal construction. Yet the project's start was promising. Two schools were built, historic farmhouses restored, and primary urban development work completed, but everything else remained on paper.

Mistakes that have had an impact

There were several mistakes, all of which were clearly made with a cool head. In particular, the main architectural error was choosing an area of ​​Catania with unsuitable characteristics. Librino was built in an area of ​​the city that wasn't particularly suitable from a climate perspective because it was excessively hot, far from the sea, and unsuitable for high-end residential development. It therefore immediately became the perfect location, as already mentioned, for public housing but, above all, for real estate speculation.

Photo taken from the website of G124, Senator Renzo Piano's working group.(https://renzopianog124.com/)

As if all this were not enough, it was realized too late that the chosen area suffered from a significant noise pollution problem. In short, the air traffic It was intensified by the takeoffs and landings of the nearby Fontanarossa Airport. Over time, a promising neighborhood became increasingly susceptible to widespread crime, including drug dealing and illegal arms trafficking. 

The emblem of this negative transformation is the so-called "Palazzo di Cemento," whose architectural history provides some insight into why this project failed. The building in question became a den of organized crime, despite efforts to build a structure capable of housing more than one commercial business since 1981. After the contract was awarded and the design work was entrusted to two well-known architects, Giuseppe Samonà and Giacomo Leone, the process was simple. The first two floors of the building were designated for the aforementioned commercial activities, the mezzanine and first floors for offices, and the remaining 12 floors for residential accommodation. All of the latter were to be assigned based on a precise public ranking. 

Architecture is often riddled with mysteries, and one of these concerns the "Cement Palace." In 1984, just three years after construction began, all activity was halted, even though the building was practically complete. Perhaps it's no coincidence, however, that that same year, the owner of the company that won the contract was indicted. The reason was related to a series of scandals linked to the race itself.

A new procedure

The result was a second tender process, in 1986, with a brand-new company. Was everything resolved? Not a chance. Just twelve months later, a new fire safety law was passed, declaring the building non-compliant. Consequently, the fire prevention certificate was denied without further ado. The renovations were deemed too costly, and the final delivery never took place. Then, in 1992, the illegal occupation of the building dealt the final blow to the project. Despite the families' evacuation in 2011, there has never been a genuine restoration initiative. All of this bears witness to the degradation and abandonment that has affected the neighborhood. 

However, residents have never given up, as evidenced by the redevelopment initiatives they've launched. These range from street art to the creation of facilities for young people, not to mention art exhibitions. Praiseworthy initiatives but which, or at least this is the impression, will never give back to the people of Catania even 1% of that New Town which between the 1960s and 1970s had given rise to hope for the birth of an architectural model (and not only) from which all of Italy could take inspiration. 

The cover photo is an aerial image from Google Maps. We've included Kenzo Tange's outline of the Librino neighborhood.